A poppy grows in hell
Beside the bones of youth, lost
A single splash of hope
Against the chaos and unrest.
The bent backs of trees,
Wooden cenotaphs of untold stories,
Await on silent prayers
This winter of men to be done.
In the silence of horizons far away,
Broken dreams of home that can’t be met
And all we have are ghosts to tip our hats
And the smiles of those children who walk next.
A poppy grows in summer
Beside the roll of fields, green
A single splash of red
A rebirth, a promise kept?
Copyright ©RMC March 2019